


world.startSimulation();

by orphan_account



Series: me.escape(world); [2]
Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: A lot of this shows up later but I'll tag it now, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Gordon, HLVRAI is a simulation, Inhuman Tommy, M/M, No One Is Neurotypical, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, They/Them Pronouns for Benrey (Half-Life), Time Shenanigans, Unethical Experimentation, Virus Benrey, but it happens before the real black mesa incident, its g-man and his son stuff is gonna get weird, mashing up canon and hlvrai, this is gonna get meta, will follow Tommy and Benrey from pre HL through HL2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25437436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So, look, you guess you can control time. Well, control implies you have a certain degree of discipline with your powers. You don't. All you can do is hope your emotions don't get high enough for you to speed up time and miss a whole day (again). Or freeze your coworkers in place so you can finish a page of notes before they finish talking (again).You used to worry about it. You used to think you were a freak. You used to want to find your parents and chew them out. But you're in your 30s now. You have a good job at Black Mesa in Sector E. High clearance. Top Secret. You don't really have time to worry about how you may not be all human.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Benrey/Tommy Coolatta, Benrey/Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman
Series: me.escape(world); [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842487
Comments: 45
Kudos: 191





	1. one more confession: discretion's not what i need to sell

**Author's Note:**

> i hope the rest of the chapters will be longer than this but i make no promises. im a blunt bitch. but like. here we fucking go. have my crazy ass au.

Time for you has always been… weird. Being an orphan you can't exactly ask your parents why sometimes things move too fast or people around you freeze completely. You can't control it. As far as you can tell, it's connected to your emotions. When you were younger, adults would blame it on a caffeine high, and given the amount of soda you ingest (and still do), you accepted at first.

But you don't like not knowing things. You can never accept things as ‘just being that way’. Everything has a reason and an answer and if it’s not written down somewhere you will take that burden to write the damn Wikipedia Article yourself. The weirdass time thing was no different. You tried to read anything and everything you could. You found information on mental disorders and trauma, and while you do seem to meet the criteria of some, like autism, or ADHD, or anxiety, your…  _ specific _ time issues don't match up. 

So, look, you guess you can control time. 

Well, control implies you have a certain degree of discipline with your powers. You don't. All you can do is hope your emotions don't get high enough for you to speed up time and miss a whole day (again). Or freeze your coworkers in place so you can finish a page of notes before they finish talking (again). 

It can be rather annoying but had proven to be fun during college sports. You still feel bad for accidentally exploiting it during track races, but you couldn't really control it anyway. You just got  _ so _ excited. 

You used to worry about it. You used to think you were a freak. You used to want to find your parents and chew them out.

— But you're in your 30s now. You have a good job at Black Mesa in Sector E. High clearance. Top Secret. You don't really have time to worry about how you may not be all human. 

You graduated top of your class for bioengineering. You guess making an immortal dog for your thesis grabbed the attention of the facility. You hadn't heard of Black Mesa before but you jumped on the job when they offered it to you straight out of college. It paid the bills and your college debt. You even had some left over from the sign on bonus to give back to your orphanage. They even provided you with a place to stay. You got a topside dorm, which you found later were the nicest of the on-site housing. They let you bring Sunkist (you probably wouldn’t have accepted if they didn’t).

At first it had been mind-numbing work. Boring. You didn't even have to do much, so you spent time memorizing OSHA regulations and company protocol. They had you writing up plans and doing tests for some cloning project. You never got to see the results. It felt like busy work, or like they were trying to see how trustworthy you were. 

Two years in they moved you to xenobiology. 

You liked studying the plants and seeing how they responded to different stimuli. Then they started bringing in actual alien lifeforms. You had been more excited than surprised. With how big the universe is (and your own weirdness) you had never really put other life out of the realm of possibility. You worked overtime out of your own accord, taking notes and doing experiments. You did a handful of autopsies and submitted a number of requests to do advanced testing on DNA. Most were approved. 

You were the one who made the antidote for Headcrab infections. It has to be administered fast, but it makes the little guy pop right off without turning its meal’s brain to mush. You learned how to debeak them shortly after. 

Of course, all that changed when they moved you to a different project. But that’s how all stories start. 

(Not that you would know. You were never fond of stories. No one ever read them to you.)

—

“They moving you again?” Barney asks during your break. You are staring at the schedule board, eyebrows furrowed. The soda can in your hand is starting to dent inwards with your grip. You turn your attention to him, instead. You don’t look at his face, instead count the pockets on his vest. His uniform is dusty. 

“M-Mr Calhoun, you’re— you’ve been crawling around in the vents again.” You laugh lightly. 

His face cracks into a wide grin. “Been racing the newbie. He’s gettin’ the hang of it.”

“From S-s-Sector, um, from Anomalous Materials?”

“Yeah! You should join sometime.”

You shake your head furiously, taking a sip of your soda. “I think I’m, uh, too tall for that, Mr Calhoun.” 

He makes a show of stepping back to look up at you. “Well, if your new friend—” he leans over to look at the shift board, “— _ X-742502 _ ..? Doesn’t take up too much of your time, maybe you can join us for drinks this weekend.”

“I-I’ll see, Mr Calhoun.” You can’t help but swallow again when hearing the designated sample name. Once the guard excuses himself, you let your shoulders fall. You drain the rest of your soda and smash it against your head. 

Black Mesa has several codes for samples brought back from Xen. You’ve memorized them all, of course. G is for those that produce energy but are ultimately not alive. Rocks usually. GG are the same, but unstable. S, or just specimen, is for flora or fauna. The typical barnacle or headcrab. You’ve heard A being used for aquatic species but they haven’t bought anything more than a few leeches back yet. (The last crew sent to retrieve the larger creatures disappeared. Which is a whole different situation. One you are not paid enough to think about.)

But— X is for those of human intelligence, and as far you know, this is the first to be given that code.


	2. i never needed a reason for keeping secrets from myself

You have to have your clearance upgraded before you are even allowed in the area where your new project is housed. The whole thing has you tense. You get your retinal scans updated in the system and your fingerprints taken. You get a fancy new name tag and the woman at HR doesn't even laugh at your last name. You play with one of your bracelets under your sleeve as you wait.

"D-don't you need my passport for, um, verification?" You've read the security manual several times and you are positive they need at least three forms of identification before updating your information.

She looks at you blankly. She signs off on your paperwork. You frown. That's not very safe. "Look, kid—"

"I'm 35." You correct with a slight bite to your tone that makes you wince. It's a sore spot. You don't know why you look so young. But she has your personal file right there. She should know.

She gives a sigh. "Yeah. Alright. Just know: whatever the Admin is keeping in there? It's making me have to fill out a lot of worker's comp forms and I don't like that." 

“I’m s-sorry? I don’t under—”

She thrusts a folder into your hands. "Good luck."

—

You have the rest of the night to go through the files they gave you. It doesn't feel like enough time to get up to date but your first shift with Seven-Up is tomorrow. (Look, you don't need judgement but X-742502 is a mouthful. And it still has seven in the name!)

You toss off your lab coat and loosen your tie. The folder is surprisingly thin. You don't like that. You take off your shoes and place them neatly by your door, setting the folder onto the table. Food first. If you open the folder now, you'll forget to eat. 

Pasta, you think. Simple and easy. There’s not much food you can get at Black Mesa anyway. You set the water to boil and you pace around the small apartment. All of the topside dorms are bigger and nicer than the ones in the lower facility. Most of your neighbors are families. You sometimes hear a baby crying from next door. Your apartment is shoved between two larger ones. You think it used to be part of one of the neighbors’, but got divided. It’s nothing much, two stories like the rest, but your second floor only has a bathroom and your bedroom. The main floor has your small kitchen and your living room. 

You are glaring at the peeling wallpaper when the water finally starts to boil. You pour in the noodles and start getting the sauce and meat to heat up. Then it's back to pacing. With a few pit stops to stir.

Sunkist watches you pace. “I’m okay, girl.” You tell her and she lays her head down onto her paws. “Just— just, um, worried about who will take care of the headcrabs.” You laugh slightly. Lying to your dog. Real good. She looks up at you like she knows. She probably does. 

You keep looking at the folder as you make dinner. What have you gotten yourself into, Thomas? There's no way there's enough information in that folder to make you happy. You know that's why they switched you to this project, but you hate going into things blind. Especially things that could be dangerous. (Could be? No. This is Black Mesa. Whatever Seven-Up is, it  _ is _ dangerous. The HR lady had made that clear enough.)

Sunkist nudges your leg just before you burn your food. You jolt from your thoughts and make both you and her a bowl. Pasta isn’t good for her so you give her extra meat and not as much sauce. You grab a soda and reach out to drag the folder towards you as you settle down at the table. You run your hand through Sunkist’s fur to ground yourself as you open the folder.

The first page is an overview of what Black Mesa knows of Xen (along with a list of passwords you’ll need). Most of it you already know. Except the whole jumble of jargon about ‘borderworld’ and ‘multiple universes’. You frown. You understand it, but that doesn’t make accepting it any easier. Xen…  _ supposedly _ connects every alternate universe and timeline. It makes sense that there had to be an area of collision, a crossroad of sorts. 

You are discussing the repercussions of learning how to control the multiverse aloud to Sunkist when you feel a headache coming on. You sigh and chug your forgotten soda. Maybe you do have a caffeine addiction. 

You turn to the next page.

**Log Transcript #253**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 3 Personnel Communication Channel 1**

**[10:16] HENDERSON:** [Through static] Hey. You read me, Griffin?

**[10:16] BARLOW:** Yeah. There’s— There’s some interference though. What’s up at base, Doc?

**[10:17] HENDERSON:** You, uh— [A strange, almost musical sound. Henderson sighs. When he talks again, he sounds calmer] You going to be back soon?

**[10:17] BARLOW:** Huh? Yeah. Just getting these last water samples for Lambda. 

**[10:19] HENDERSON:** [Undecipherable mumbling under the static] There’s something on the line with us.

**[10:19] BARLOW:** What the fuck do you mean, man? We’re on some alien planet. There’s just us. Lambda isn’t even connected to this line right now. Too much energy.

**[10:19] HENDERSON:** I think it’s in the computers. Like— Like some kinda malware.

**[10:19] BARLOW:** You been getting into the morphine reserves again, Doc?

* * *

**Log Transcript #254**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 3 Personnel Communication Channel 1**

**[15:45] HENDERSON:** Griffin. Don’t come back to base.

**[15:45] BARLOW:** What? Why? Doc, look, you’re really starting to freak me out. We’re the third team out here and the others died in horrible ways. I haven’t seen my wife in two months. This ain’t funny.

* * *

**Log Transcript #255**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 3 to Lambda Complex Main Channel**

**[16:04] BARLOW:** Lambda! Fuck fuck fuck. Lambda, do you read me? This is Griffin Barlow. Xen Exploration Team 3. Time is— fuck, time is [loud static and what sounds like singing] Did you hear that?! That’s what I’m fucking dealing with right now. [Noise becomes increasingly high-pitched] It’s coming from— from the fucking computers. Something happened to Dr Henderson. Looks— oh god oh jesus christ. It’s like his HEV Suit tore him apart. [Beeping that, upon analysis, was determined to be from an older model HEV Suit. A scream, presumably from Barlow, is cut short as the recording abruptly ends]

**NOTES** : Xen Base 3 was found intact, but the bodies of Barlow and Henderson were never recovered. The computer systems seemed to be extremely corrupted. Very little data could be salvaged. 

Recommend sending only larger groups from here on out. HEV Suit data will now be backed up and sent back to Lambda at regular intervals in order to save crew logs.

* * *

**Log Transcript #321**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 7 Personal HEV Suit Recorder USER_TORRES**

**[02:34] TORRES:** Lambda wants us to… record our thoughts. Like a diary. I haven’t been sleeping well. I think I’m having nightmares but I can’t remember them when I wake up. The HEV Suit are charging slowly. I keep thinking I see something on the computer screens. I know I’m the crew’s only medical personnel but… I think I’m going crazy. I want to go home.

* * *

**Log Transcript #336**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 7 Personal HEV Suit Recorder USER_TORRES**

**[03:01] TORRES:** We all woke up at the same time. All of us. We all had the same— the same nightmare? We shouldn’t be here. Something is— is protecting Xen and we’ve upset it.

**[03:01] BURKE:** [In the distance] This is a neutral ground! Safe! [Burke becomes more and more distraught] Too many things were chased here. We weren’t invited! We don’t know the rules! There’s too much! [Incomprehensible]

**[03:02] WALL:** Calm down, soldier!

**[03:02] TORRES:** Didn’t you see it too?

**[03:02] WALL:** It’s just the stress. Aren’t you a doctor, Maria? You should know that. Now get back to your quarters. I don’t want to hear any more of this hogshit.

* * *

**Log Transcript #339**

**Date: XX/XX/1994**

**Xen Base 7 Personal HEV Suit Recorder USER_WALL**

**[01:32] WALL:** [Incomprehensible sounds. Static and singing drowns out the mumbling until it all abruptly stops. Sgt Wall speaks clearly and directly into the microphone] Can computer viruses be alive? [Recording cuts off to loud static]

**NOTES:** No bodies were recovered from Base 7. All computer systems were taken back and analyzed. They showed high levels of corruption but no physical damage.

* * *

**[Further study approved by Administrator Breen]**

* * *

**Anomalous Material Sample X-742502**

Entity is attracted to technology, especially systems that have high levels of information stored on them. X-742502 seems to act as a computer virus, even showing the ability to infect HEV Suits. Anything infected with X-742502 seems to become pacified at first, interrupting data transfers and attempting to replicate itself so it can spread. If any hostility to it is detected or information is attempted to be removed from Xen, the entity will become violent, taking control of anything it can to do harm. Observed techniques are controlling a HEV Suit or disabling vital survival systems. 

* * *

**ADDITIONAL NOTES:**

X-742502 has been observed to slow down with more devices it has infected. With a server room set up for bait and a large task force, capturing this sample should be easy enough and of top priority. I leave this in your capable hands. — Dr Keller

A special hard drive was gifted to us by a generous donor. Use it. — Administrator Breen

There were casualties but X-742502 has been brought back to Black Mesa. It is currently housed in special containment in Sector E and awaiting study. — Dr Keller

It has been theorized that the multiverse can be compared to a computer network. Each universe a different connection to the main server, in this case Xen. In this comparison, a massive server with so many incoming connections would need a strong antivirus or firewall to keep the network safe. — Dr Bennet 

Keep your observations to yourself, Bennet. — Dr Keller

—

It’s late when you finally put down the folder. You can read and reread all the documents enough that your vision blurs but it won’t make anything anymore clear. You know that but you still have the files memorized by the time you pry your eyes away. Several empty soda cans litter your dining room table, all brought to you by Sunkist. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there. 

Out of everything you expected to encounter when switched to this project, a sentient computer virus was last on the list. 

“I didn’t even t-take computer science classes!” You groan. Sunkist perks up from her spot at your feet, letting out a small howl with you. You can’t help but giggle, scratching behind her ears. You take one final look at the folder with a sigh before cleaning up from dinner and get ready for bed. 

Sunkist lays between your legs in bed as you wait for your anxiety medicine to make you slip into unconsciousness. Her heavy body is nice against you as she snores quietly. The two of you barely fit into the small beds Black Mesa provides but you’ve made it work so far. Black Mesa is good to you. It's good to everyone, right..? 

You try not to fidget too much but you keep thinking of Seven-Up. It… seemed protective of Xen. A Guardian. And now it was far away from home. You wonder if its scared. Does it even understand emotions like that? You suppose that’s probably what they want you to figure out. But the idea of it being intelligent and capable of emotion makes your stomach turn. It probably is confused and lost. Like you would be if you were suddenly trapped in Xen.

For some reason, those are the thoughts that you fall asleep to. 


	3. i got a new disease in me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benrey is gonna have it pronouns while figuring out how to be physical so i’m sorry if that makes anyone uncomfortable!! Its not meant to be dehumanizing but Benrey’s journey with gender is actually gonna be a kinda plot point
> 
> Anyway gives Tommy my obsession with 3

**[Day One]**

You like to keep yourself to a strict schedule. Change stresses you, scares you. You wake up at the same time every morning and today is no different. You go through the actions: shower, shave, get dressed, feed Sunkist. You check to make sure your phone is charged exactly three times before slipping it into your pocket. Black Mesa gives all its employees BlackBerry™ cells and they even let you replace the casing so it's see-through! 

You run down your mental checklist one last time. Wallet. Passport. Nametag. Keys (with too many keychains). Dr Pepper flavored chapstick. Gel bracelets on each wrist. Emergency bandaids (today’s box is Hello Kitty). You check to make sure your door is locked behind you exactly three times and you arrive exactly three minutes to your tram, like always. 

You make your way to your new post with a skip in your step, trying to ignore the anxiety you get when you pass by the door you usually always take. A guard meets you at the end of the branching hall. The door behind him is a large vacuum-sealing quarantine blast shutter. They usually aren’t closed.

“New blood?” He asks.

You don’t like the way he words it but you nod. “I’m Thomas!” 

“Let’s get the ground rules outta the way then. First: no outside technology. Cell phones and all that shit need to be left in your locker. We’re using good ol’ pen and paper with this bastard. Next: this thing is an AI, as far as we can tell, and your job is to teach it. Figure out what it's capable of. Details go over my head but you’re the one who made the immortal dog so I’m sure you can figure it out. Big Guy wants to make it useful.” The security officer waves his hand vaguely. You look down at his name tag. Jeff. “Lastly: nothing is allowed in the chamber without approval from the Admin. Got it?”

You glance behind you. There’s no one else in the hall. “Um. Mr Jeff, sir. Am— Am I the only scientist assigned to this project?”

“For now. If you make any legit discoveries, I’m sure the Big Guy will give you help.”

You tug at one of your bracelets. “I j-just need to drop my stuff off at my locker and then I’m ready.” He nods and you quickly backtrack to the locker room. You fumble a bit with your combination, sweaty fingers slipping on the number pad. Once it's open, you shove your phone onto the shelf. You pause, looking at the picture of Sunkist you have there, and grab a few of your gel pens. You slip them into your breast pocket and head back out. 

When you get back, Jeff steps out of the way of the retinal scanner and you lean down into it (you know you're tall but these still feel too low to the ground).The first set of doors open and you step into the small room.

“Good luck, rookie.” Jeff calls as the doors shut. You stand stiffly in the small room. It’s only lit by the emergency lights at the bottom. A green light clicks on above the second set of shutters and they hiss open. You quickly shove yourself through them as soon as there’s enough space. 

The doors shut behind you with a loud bang and you jump. The room you find yourself in is cold and sterile. It’s blindingly white and very, very empty. Set up directly in the center is a desk and a monitor. A notebook sits beside it. You trace the cords of the monitor as you take a slow step forward. The power cord goes up to a plug in the ceiling, while another, much thicker one, hooks into a massive, and frankly alien, looking tower. There’s a blue light flashing from the base and going up the sides. You can’t help but think it pulses like a heartbeat. 

(— something about it feels familiar, a sense of deja vu like when you remember your first foster family or learning to read.)

You take another step forward and the sound of your shoes hitting the ground echoes. The monitor flickers on, so fast that you can hear the old CRT trying to warm up. You freeze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. The air feels thick. 

“H-hello? Can, um, can you hear me?”

After a few moments, white text appears on the screen. 

> yes

You finish closing the distance, shifting awkwardly in front of the monitor. “My name is Thomas,” you say to the monitor. “Do you— do you have a name?”

The text cursor blinks at you for a long while. 

> your people call me x-742502

You frown. “B-but what do you call yourself?” You wait, patiently, for a few minutes, but get no reply so you sigh. You look down at the cardboard box that is shoved unceremoniously under the desk. You pull it out gently. Inside is a SEGA Dreamcast and a few games.  _ Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? _ ,  _ Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater _ ,  _ The Typing of the Dead _ ,  _ Atari Anniversary Edition _ , and  _ SEGA Bass Fishing _ . 

You see text from the corner of your eyes while pawing through the box.

> what is that

“Looks like… uh.” How do you explain video games to an Alien AI? How do you explain  _ shitty _ video games to an Alien AI? (Okay, Tony Hawk is alright. And the Anniversary collection has the old classics.) “They’re to help you learn about our culture.” You finally decide on.

> you could just let me out

"No." You respond instantly. 

> its dark in here

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to ignore how that pulls at your heartstrings. "Here. I'll, um, I'll set this up for you, al-alright?" You pull out the Dreamcast, straightening the cords with precision. No more text appears on the screen so you start to hook the system up (you hope that doesn't hurt them). You pick out  _ Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? _ and put it in. The screen flickers like something is fighting the connection before the game starts up.

You hold the controller awkwardly, wondering if maybe you'll have to play the game for the virus, when you see the start option selected without your input. You take a step back, smiling. You pick up the notebook and reach for a pen to start taking notes. 

"Can you see me?" You ask, looking down at your collection of gel pens. 

> yes

The word appears on the screen, the game fading out slightly to make it more readable. 

"W-which color do you like?" You hold out the pens. 

The game is paused, the cursor flipping through the menus, almost nervously. 

> blue 

"This one?" You hold up a light blue. 

> matches your eyes

You blink. Your eyes are green. Light green sure but— 

You've stopped time. You didn't notice until now, when you can't hear the machinery or the air conditioner. You don't know how long you've had it frozen for. 

> youll get the hang of it

"Wha— what?" 

It unpauses the game. The air conditioner comes back into focus as white noise in the background. No other text appears. You decide to ignore the comment and go about taking your own notes as you watch them attempt to answer trivia questions. 

You’ve only ever trained animals so you are learning just as much as the AI.

Still, it’s an easy enough shift. You watch Seven-Up play the game. It struggles horribly at first with the questions but you can practically see them learning. You can’t help but feel most of the questions are pointless, with no context given. It can’t really learn that much from this, can it? You tap your pen against your notes, frowning. 

It feels stupid, like talking to yourself, but you eventually get up the courage to start explaining some of the questions and answers to them. No more text pops up on the screen but the fans on the tower whirl in a way that is almost musical. 

You lose track of time until the door behind you opens. You stand up, startled, and the game pauses too. 

“Shifts up, man. You can go home.” Jeff says. You missed your lunch. Your knees hurt from having sat crisscross for so long. You nod, reaching out to pick up the controller so you can shut off the Dreamcast. 

> leave it running please

You hesitate. You don’t see why you couldn’t. AIs learn over time. If anything it could speed this along. 

And it  _ did _ say please.

“Have a good— a good night, Seven-Up!” You chirp. 

“Seven-Up?” Jeff asks. You just shrug. 

**[Day Two]**

Tony Hawk is riding around on a skateboard on the low resolution monitor. That was not the disk you left in the Dreamcast when you left last night.

"How did you— " you start, nearly dropping your lunchbox.

A tendril of something fleshy slips out of the screen. The glass ripples like it's nothing but a pool of water. A few more red-pink-muscle-sinew appendages curl outward, flailing awkwardly. You let out a rather undignified squawk and stumble backwards. A mass of eyes-and-mouths-and-teeth-and-fleshy-bits falls from the screen with a wet plop. It’s all connected with strings of tissue and it shines in the fluorescent lighting like it’s damp.

You wince, trying to keep your breathing even. This is not how you wanted your second day to go. Your eyes nervously scan the room. There’s no weapons and your back hits the door with a thud.

All the eyes roll towards the sound, glowing yellow orbs and pinprick pupils. They’re glossy, glazed over, blind right now as it blinks rapidly in the bright light. Teeth bared from the waving tentacles. You can't focus on any of them. It blurs in and out, edges frayed and raw. Your mind can barely comprehend it and you feel pain blooming at the base of your head like an icepick headache. Eyes and mouths appear and disappear. Tongues loll out and lap at fangs. The entity squelches moistly as it moves, trying to straighten up. Its tendrils slap against the monitor and the desk, trying to get some height. Then, when their dozens of eyes finally seem to focus, their pupils grow wide and round. 

"TOMMY!" 

The sound is loud and you clamp your hands over your ears. You are shaking, panic bubbling up in the back of your throat. You can feel tears in the corners of your eyes. This is how you die. You are vaguely aware your nose is bleeding.

(— The one time you want to freeze time and you  _ can’t _ .)

You think maybe it's talking but your ears are ringing. You feel something wet and cold against your cheek. You wrench your eyes open in shock. Then you hear the singing. Blue orbs float around the room, bathing everything in a soft glow. They drip and bubble from the creature’s various maws, bouncing against the ground before drifting upward. A sense of calm washes over you. A sweet taste, like artificial blue raspberry, is on your tongue (blue raspberries don’t actually exist, so of course it's artificial, you scold yourself).

“What is— what did you do?” 

It seems to fidget awkwardly, tentacles slapping on the ground. “Human, uh, brains aren’t meant to see me like this. I just… calmed you down. man.”

You blink a few times, more so trying to wrap your head around the verbal quirks it has picked up. It has been… playing a lot of Tony Hawk it seems. That skater bro-code leaking into its words. You suppose it is a good way to learn. You scoot forward a bit, reaching out a hand. It mimics the action, tentacles twisting together to make a rather disturbing mockery of a hand. When you touch it, its skin is cold and wet. You have to fight the impulse to pull away. 

You're going to have to tell someone. They're going to want to do tests. 

"Seven-Up." You mumble, half in awe.

"That's, like, kinda a dumb name, bro." It pulls away, crawling back up to the screen. Tentacles wrap around the desk as it hauls itself up. It moves sluggishly, eyes half closed. Tired.

"Oh. Sorry." You feel your face heat up. "Did, um, did you have another name in mind?" 

It hums, a few more colored orbs leaving different mouths. "Thinkin'... Benrey."


	4. i got a friend that's losing sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanna say thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments aaaa this is wayyyy out of my comfort zone and I usually write my world building down? But I’m having a lot of fun! I’m so glad other people can enjoy this too <3

**[Day Seven]  
**

There’s a headcrab sitting on the monitor.

This is objectively better than the Eldritch flesh-mass that gives you a headache to look at for longer than a few moments (although Benrey tells you that's longer than most. Something about grey matter oozing from someone's ears when they saw it back on Xen). It takes Benrey quite a bit of energy to be physical. You had learned it had accidentally done it the second day because it had been so excited to show you. It's endearing, in a way. 

The two of you had discussed finding an easier form for it to use. It doesn’t like the dark emptiness that appears when it’s in the screen (you had ‘agoraphobia’ written in your notes). You suggested something small and simple, although Benrey had tried to jump right into attempting to be human. You quickly turned that idea down, completely not ready to want to deal with a human-like entity right yet. You are still uncomfortable around it but happy to see it took your advice and picked something more close to home, for both of you.

The headcrab chitters at you when you enter and you can’t help but smile. It can still control the game, even outside the screen, so you settle down onto the ground to watch it play. 

You were able to get more games for it to play and even a very limited connection to the internet. It is mostly children’s media but Benrey doesn’t seem to mind too much. It keeps the newest members of your team on their toes. Some new programmers who are in charge of watching its browsing and keeping the connection separate from the main Black Mesa servers. They have their hands full. You chuckle. 

You are fine with just watching and taking notes. You can’t help but start to talk about your own work with headcrabs, flapping your hands. It’s a one-sided conversation but you don’t mind. Benrey purrs when you talk, more of those colored bubbles leaving its mandibles. It’s a bit unnerving to have it looking at you while the game plays on the screen under it.

“These are, uh, a d-different color!” You poke one of the orbs. They go from blue to deep green. 

The headcrab makes a noise but then seems to remember you can’t understand it. The text box pops up on the screen. 

> o yea

> uh hld on gotta think

The headcrab shifts, tapping its front claws to some unheard melody. You wait.

> different colors mean like 

> different things i guess

You write that down, leaning forward. “Like what?”

> this 1 means im comfortable i think 

> idk man human words r weird 

The colors correspond to emotions. That makes sense. You need to remember this. You remember best with rhymes. “Blue to green like a tree means you’re at ease!” You smile widely, proud of that. “What did the blue before mean?”

> wat

> o

> the 1 i did to make u chill

> u kno how headcrabs can bite and make u all tingly? 

“Uh, yeah. They—They have venom that can paralyze their victims. Makes it easier to latch on. Not— not all of them have it, however!”

> ok so its like that

> but makes ppl feel all

> low-key

A calming venom? You shift slightly, uncomfortable . So Benrey is obviously a predator. You jot down a few notes. “Does it have to be, uh, ingested?” 

> nah 

> seeing or hearing is fine

> but eating it speeds it up

> makes it work better u kno

> y? u wanna suck my balls bro?

You feel your face heat up. It's been playing too many video games. “No! I’m just, you know, wondering.” You quickly change the topic. “It needs a name!”

The cursor blinks at you. The headcrab rolls onto its back.

> big cool voice

“It tasted sweet.”

> wait

> where r we again

“Black Mesa?” You offer.

> yahhhhhh

> the black mesa sweet voice

> niceeeee

You can’t help but laugh. But you add it to your notes.

**[Day Ten]**

You’ve learned to bring your lunch with you. 

Benrey doesn’t like to be alone, often complaining even when your shift ends, so slipping out to the break room proves difficult. The one time you actually remembered too, you had returned to what you could only describe as a fit from the entity. Nothing but ‘i refuse to talk to you’ flashing on the screen. 

You pop the tab to your soda. The headcrab instantly hops off the desk and approaches you. 

Benrey had asked for some speakers but you still aren’t used to the robotic TTS voice. “Yooo what’s that, bro? You’re like drinkin it all the time.”

“I know you know what soda is, Benrey.”

It taps a claw against the can, matching the noise with its own singing of sweet voice. Benrey does auditory stimming often. “Can I uhhhhh try some?”

Microsoft Sam was not made to say some of the shit Benrey makes it say. 

“I— I don’t know if headcrabs can ha— should have caffeine.” 

“Please.”

You sigh and lower the can to it. It wraps its claws around it, before climbing right onto the top. It loses balance, falling onto its back, with the can in its mouth. You quickly try and grab the can but you can see it chugging the soda. 

You swipe it away before it can drown and, with a tentative hand, flip the headcrab back onto its front. 

Neither of you say anything. No Microsoft Sam, no chittering, no human words or text. You think maybe you're waiting to see if the alien will just explode from the sugar. 

The song of sweet voice that suddenly leaves the headcrab makes you jump. It's not loud, but it still startles you. A line of pink bubbles that you've learned mean Benrey likes something. And then— well a headcrab with the zoomies is not exactly something you ever thought you would see. It rushes around the room, skittering across the walls and ceiling and jumping around. You can't help but laugh, having to chase Benrey down as it lets out a constant stream of sweet voice. 

**[Day Fifteen]**

"Are humans, like, stuck as either a dude or dudette?" 

The question takes you off-guard. Benrey has been growing stronger. It can use its own voice through the speakers now, a monotone barely-human sound. It doesn't have a physical form right now, and hasn't for a few days. Escape From the City plays in the background and you watch it effortlessly get every ring. It's been doing nothing but playing that same level all day. 

"I mean, um, not really. People can— can change. What you're born as… doesn't matter. Or shouldn't." You pause. "Some people can be mean." 

The blue hedgehog does a flip, swerves off road to break a box and get the hidden animals. Benrey doesn't respond for a while. 

"I was, y'know, uh, reading online. 'Bout transgender peeps."

You nod.

"I, uh, saw a thing about pronouns? And you are, like, keeping notes on me, right? So..." 

Oh. You see where this is going. "Do you have a preference?" 

Another silence. "They. Is that… weird?" 

"Not at all!"

**[Day Sixteen]**

They don’t allow you to see Benrey. You wake up to an email in your inbox saying your shift is canceled. You try and swallow down the sense of dread. 

**[Day Seventeen]**

Your shift is canceled again.

**[Day Eighteen]**

You get a text from an unknown number.

> knives hurt bro

Your shift is still canceled. When you try to reply, you get a message saying the number is no longer in service. 

**[Day Nineteen]**

You take Sunkist on a long walk. Cell service is out all over the complex.

**[Day Twenty]**

You get an email to meet with the Administrator.

You nearly run face first into a man in a suit in the hall on your way to Breen’s office. You manage to freeze time just in time to step out of the way from an embarrassing collision. The man has a briefcase but no name tag. That’s a violation. 

“Didn’t your parents… warn you not to name things? Not to get too... a-attached?” 

You jerk back around, eyes wide and breath coming out in a harsh gasp. But time is still stopped. The man with the briefcase is still frozen as he was when you had to use your powers to avoid slamming into him. You blink and count to three. Time slowly inches back to movement. The man checks his watch and then walks away. He doesn't even look at you. You swallow and turn to knock on the office door with the big label ADMINISTRATOR.

Dr Breen meets you in his office with a wide grin. “Ah, Dr Coolatta, thank you so much for joining me.”

“Is Benrey okay?” You ask before you can stop yourself. 

Breen’s smile falters briefly. “The anomaly? It’s fine. That’s why I wanted to speak to you, actually.” He motions for you to take a seat and you do. The chair is too soft and you perch in it stiffly. “Coffee?” He offers. 

“Do— do you have any soda?” 

He shakes his head, pouring himself a cup. You snap one of your rubber bracelets. Breen continues, “Benrey, as you called it, is fine. Due to it choosing more physical forms of manifestations, I allowed another team to… take a closer look.”

You frown. “You— did you hurt them?”

“It was well-behaved, you did well.” Breen brushes off your question in a way that makes your blood boil. He slides a folder across his desk towards you. “I have the results right here for you. But I have one request.”

You know it's not a request. You don’t have an option. “Of— of course, Mr Administrator.”

“It has shown… a remarkable interest in attempting to be human. I offered it a deal: if it can blend in well enough, and still attend it’s monthly… we’ll call them appointments. I will allow it a job on the security team. It has a protective nature, you must have noticed. I feel that this false sense of freedom will help ease it.” 

You chew at your lip. You don’t know what exactly Breen is playing at. But— “I’ll help.”


	5. i'm wide awake

Sunkist nudges you with a soft huff. You look down at her and she gives you the look of disappointment only a dog is capable of. Your pill bottles lay at your feet, left there by her for hours. You force a smile as you reach down to pick them up, downing your medication dry. You are once again lying to a dog. She’s trained to pick up on it and her look speaks volumes. 

It's 4am. You have to be up two hours. 

"Fuck." You sigh. Papers are scattered across your table and your dinner is left uneaten and long since cold. Sunkist whines, head in your lap. Even she is panting anxiously. 

It's all notes on Benrey's— your breathing catches again just remembering. You take an extra anxiety pill and suddenly wish weed is allowed in Black Mesa. You close your eyes, fingers finding their way into Sunkist's fur. 

— Their  _ autopsy _ . 

They had died. Okay, they… got better. But that doesn't change the fact that the scientists, your  _ co-workers _ , had killed them. You should be more surprised by the findings and the fact they  _ came back _ , but your eyes keep going back to the first handwritten note. 

_ Do not worry about being easy on it. I have it on good authority that it cannot die. — Breen _

The so-called 'good authority' came in the form of a signature you can barely make out. The last page is a list of everyone who has been allowed copies of these results and there's only one name you don't recognize. It's a scrawling, neatly flowing signature. It's not English, that you are sure of, but stranger still is that the characters seem to move and shift as you look at it. You can almost make out something like the word Man before it all blurs together and makes your head ache. 

(You remember trying to draw the same sigils when you were young. Trying to match something in your dreams. Sometimes you thought your own writing writhed the same. But that was all a twisted childhood memory. Vivid imagination of a kid with too much intelligence and energy for his age. Right?)

Another nudge from Sunkist. She looks right into your eyes, ears back. Her nose is wet and cold and grounding against your hand. She huffs. You exhale. One two three. She huffs again. You inhale. One two three. Huff. Exhale. One two — 

“Th-thanks, girl.” You continue the exercise yourself until the world no longer feels dark and closing in. You can feel the ground under your feet and hear the air conditioning. You run a hand through your hair and wince at how greasy it feels. A glance at the clock shows it's now 4:45am. 

Today is an extra soda kind of day. You stand up to go shower. With the water on cold to wake you up, you try to remember what you had learned from the files. You are determined to put that bioengineering degree to work now. Show off your knowledge a little. 

One: Benrey can't die. They come back. Wounds close and heal. The amount of damage corresponds to how long it takes for them to, well, wake up. The worst part is that they still feel all the pain, although they seem to have a very high pain tolerance. There is also a… delay, it seems, in the feeling. 

Two: their organs are, of course, alien. They try to match what form they are taking. As a headcrab their insides are  _ almost _ right. (You realize this means they will want to do more studies when Benrey manages to adapt a human form. You don't think about that.) The strangest part of their organs are that they seem too big for their forms and they are filled to bursting with the same fleshy bits and mouths and eyes as their true form has. 

Three: any technology they infect becomes biological. When the monitor was opened, the inside had been infested with fleshy sinew and tentacles. A HEV suit exposed to them resulted in the same. The effects eventually diminish, based on how thin their essence is spread. 

Four: they are  _ scared _ . 

The last one is not directly written in their file, but you don't need it spelled out for you after reading how they reacted. Overall, they had been killed a number of times while you were not allowed to see them. All with the promise of freedom hanging over their head. 

You feel sick so you down your third soda and shove two extra into your lunch box. You arrive three minutes to the tram, as always.

— 

Benrey is a skeleton when you arrive. An attempt at being something human-shaped. The bones are nearly right, although a few have spurs at the joints and their teeth are too sharp and then there's the claws. They are singing when you enter, sitting on their desk and kicking their legs. The room has been changed, as well. A bed shoved into a corner against the now padded walls. There's a desk and a calendar. The room is still too bright, too white, too sterile. 

You turn your eyes to the color of the sweet voice that obscures the lights, painting the room in dappled colors. 

You know what it means, to some degree. Anxiety. Fear. A kind of twisting in the gut the same as you had just this morning when you realized you didn't sleep at all. But giving human words to the sweet voice feels wrong. You do it because it's your job and you have your own ways of understanding and remembering. But Benrey can see colors human eyes can't. They like colors and can easily pick out differences. Sometimes they help you with rhymes, but it's mostly for mnemonic sake. 

It doesn't help that taste also can also factor in. As can pitch and how the colors progress. It's a complicated language. But the two of you work together. Benrey seems to want to be understood. (And it's a strange form of vulnerability that they only let you see.) 

The green that is clustered at the ceiling clearly spells out their anxiety but when you look back down, the jaw of their skull hangs open, dripping colors that mean happiness and excitement. You smile. 

“It’s good to see you too!” You walk over and sit down awkwardly on their bed. “Can you, um, talk like that?”

They shake their head slowly, looking back up at the ceiling. 

Your phone goes off.

You had forgotten to leave it in your locker. 

UNKNOWN: gotta grow stuff

Benrey can only  _ take _ forms, not make their own. You had hypothesized as much and the experiments proved it. Getting them to be human will be a lot of trial and error and you doubt they will ever be completely right. You could work with that, though.

“How— how about we look at some pictures of people to help you get an idea of what you’re going for?” You pull up your BlackBerry’s internet browser and pat the space on the hard mattress next to you. They hop off the desk to join you. 

— 

The days bleed together, like they do at any job when it starts to become a routine. 

As it turns out Benrey’s shapeshifting is more erratic than you had anticipated. They easily pick out attributes they like from the media they consume, but their form seems to always be in flux. Sometimes their skin melts from their bones, sometimes they have too many eyes. These are just the lesser of the usually disturbing outcomes that can happen due the natural fluidity of their manifestations. 

HR is having a heyday with all the injuries in the workplace from people seeing Benrey in a bad state. (Not to mention the deaths… You shudder.)

But you’re not easily discouraged. You had dealt with many devastating failures when making Sunkist that this is hardly daunting to you.

And it just so happens stabilizing DNA is one of your specialties. 

You spend days mixing together a collection of drugs and other biological samples. You test various combinations of Xen and human tissues while Benrey studies an older security guard manual you borrowed from Barney. (You hope it's not  _ too _ outdated but it does still mention everyone is required to carry passports, which hasn't been a protocol since before retinal scanners were installed at all checkpoints.) 

After a few months you get a concoction together that gives them more stability. Raw emotions still seem to affect how human they appear, and they need weekly injections. They adjust their form to what is comfortable for them, often asking for help in the few areas they can’t easily change. When solidified, their form is them. You’ve never seen them so happy. (Although you wince when you see their scars. They keep those in every form they have. The y-shaped autopsy scar makes you feel sick.)

You've made a game out of their check-ups. You tell them something about humans and they tell you something about Xen. Despite Benrey having a hard time putting things into human terms, especially something like Xen, you learn a lot. 

Xen is as ever-changing as they are, a meeting ground of every timeline and universe that has and ever will exist. It is something between technology and organic. In a way, Benrey could be a physical manifestation of Xen as a whole. They have lost a lot of their strength, and a lot of their memories and knowledge with that. 

Benrey, at a base level, is made to be protective. They’re like a guard dog for Xen. They were meant to protect the gateways and keep it a neutral and safe spot. They don’t spell it out for you but you understand that’s to protect the timelines, keep them separate. But it also makes the virus part of themselves easier to spread. They talk about how in ancient times Xen had been home to trading stories between elders for the purpose of improving their own homes. 

Something had changed, you gather that much. Something had weakened Benrey. They fall silent on the topic whenever you ask and just mumble something about ‘too crowded’. You learned to stop asking after you noticed they started to shake, staring at the tower they had been housed in. 

So instead you start quizzing them on Black Mesa protocol. They pick it up quickly, latching onto the security guard manual and memorizing it in a way that reminds you of how you did with the OSHA handbook. It’s a good bonding activity as you give them their injections to help stabilize them. Their fixations change quickly, though, flipping between video games and their training. They are forgetful and zone out, but you don’t mind having to repeat yourself. 

—

It's two months until Benrey is allowed to take the exam to become a guard. The night before they ask you to help them cut their hair to meet dress code and you spend hours shaving their thick curls. They hadn't cut it since they started using a human form and it had grown fast. 

They blink at themselves in the mirror, running a hand through the longest part. "It didn't hurt?" They ask, sounding like they believe you did it wrong. 

You let out a startled laugh. "You— you thought cutting your hair would hurt?"

They frown, just barely. "Yeah. Like… everything hurts, bro." 

It's your turn to look away. It's true that everything that happens to them here hurts and you hate it. You hope this is a step in the right direction. "Well, cutting your hair doesn't. It's like, um, shaving your face!" 

They rub the small amount of stubble on their chin. It's barely noticeable, not even a five o'clock shadow. "I, uh, don't shave, though?" 

You blink. And you can't fight a snort of laughter. "You can't grow facial hair!?" 

They elbow you with a huff, looking embarrassed and downright scandalized. "Sssshuttt uppp, man! My— my beard just fell down." They pull up their shirt to show off their stomach and chest hair. You laugh even harder, giving them a playful shove back. You don’t expect them to budge, given how they’re built like a muscular truck and you like a tall twig. But they slip from their seat and you tumble down after them. 

It's a mess and you try to stammer out an apology but it gets caught in your throat when they start laughing. It's contagious and you just lay there with Benrey, limbs tangled, until you’re wheezing for breath. Benrey helps you sit up and claps a strong hand to your back. 

“Yo, Tommy? Can you grab some soda and help me study?” Their voice is small and you smile at them.

You sit with them all night to help them study. When the sun came up you helped them tie their tie. Then they slap the button to open the first set of blast doors. They cough out a few anxious orbs of sweet voice but you give them a thumbs up. They smile, avoiding your gaze. 

“You— you’ll do great! I know you will.”

“Hey, uh, one more thing?” They glance up at you. 

“Anything.” You assure them.

“Kiss for good luck?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Benrey blush, but their pale skin is alight in color. You walk over, lean down, and peck them on the cheek. Their eyes go wide and they rock on their heels slightly, grinning wildly. 

“Fuck yeah, bro! I got this!” They pump their fist into the air and rush from the room. 

You order a pizza ahead of time, knowing they’ll pass.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles are from Masterpiece Theatre III by Marianas Trench and im telling you that because we have reached the end of the intro. Stuff is going to get wild from here on out.


	6. they don't know you like i do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my gfs live in seattle and love the haunted soda machine. like an irl scp its great. so of course im dropping some lore on it in here.

Six months after being assigned to Benrey, you’re promoted. You guess you should be happy but being a Sector E Supervisor forces you to split your attention between projects. You have to keep up to date with everything: checking in on all the biodomes and making sure all the scientists update their notes. You don’t get to spend as much time with Benrey, but they seem busy enough with their own shifts. 

Benrey also seems to take their work home with them, so to speak. You’ve caught them with their hand radio still on during breaks and even looking at the security cameras long after their shifts end. You don’t mind. It’s good for them to have a distraction, especially when they have a new team constantly up in their space. You still feel bad about that, especially reading the reports about the latest test that had been done to them. 

(They're scared of needles. No one but you can get close to them with one. When you ask if they're okay, they always give you a lazy smile and invite you to play video games.) 

You sigh and look at the clock. You should have clocked off an hour ago, but got tied up in paperwork. Again. You’re almost glad you’re salary instead of hourly or else you know HR would be on your ass for overtime. You rub your eyes with a sigh, leaning back in your chair. 

Your monitor turns on. You aren’t even surprised anymore. 

> yo tommy

> its friday

> wanna go to the bar

The ‘bar’ at Black Mesa is just what everyone calls the Sector D main cafeteria. During the weekends they serve cheap beer and cheaper junk food. They play shitty music and you usually try to avoid the amount of people. It’s the only real place to have any fun in Black Mesa unless you’ve been given leave to go off base. You think it’s funny, really, since not even half of the facility even gets weekends off. But it keeps morale up, you guess. 

> You know you shouldn’t be hacking into the servers, Benrey.

> u gonna tell on me gonna tattle on ur best friend

> thats cold bro

> but i hear they have that new powerade flavor

You perk up, leaning closer to the screen. You know the new Mixology Department has been doing some experiments on replicating some of the sodas retrieved from the machine in Seattle, Washington. You had been paying close attention to the project, truely. (And only because you loved soda,  _ not _ because you were in any way associated with the CyberMutt project that doomed the funding of the Cybernetic Department.)

> Oh! They finished replicating Powerade Zero Fruit Punch ??!!

> I’ll meet you there!! :)

You stand up and before you can even finish logging off your computer, Benrey is right behind you. You know they didn’t use the door but you can see the reflection of their glowing eyes on your screen. They have another new sticker on their helmet. 

“You got your passport?”

You and the rest of Sector E where Benrey is stationed had learned quickly that they take their job… abnormally seriously. Even if the protocol they are enforcing is outdated. Emails had been sent out to the whole sector about it, just because they always ask. “Of course. But—” You pause to navigate to the timesheet page, clocking both you and Benrey out. (They should have been clocked out hours ago too, but you always have to do it for them.) “W-we’re off now, so let's hurry before they drink all the, um, new Powerade!” 

They perk up when they see they’re clocked off and reach for your hand. You take it out of instinct. Benrey needs to feel grounded, needs to feel real, and you don't mind. They listen to you as you talk about some of the newest discoveries. You get a bit heated talking about how they canceled the cybernetics project when you were so close to a break-through and Benrey just nods, but they’re looking at and actually listening. A few elevator rides and long hallways later, the two of you arrive at the chaos that is the Sector D Weekend Bar. 

There's a few OSHA violations you can see right off the bat but your eyes somehow pick out Barney's from across the cafeteria. Next to him is who you assume is Gordon from Sector C. You've never really spoken much, but his work in Anomalous Materials often involves you two sharing data. Barney talks about him a lot, before he got moved to Sector C himself. (A demotion, to be sure, but Benrey needed to be kept in Sector E and Barney had higher clearance so he could pick up any shifts.)

But you notice something about Gordon. And so does Benrey, who has gone stiff. 

"Isn't that the— the guy you keep spying on with the security cameras?" You tease. 

Benrey raises their shoulders defensively. "Huh? Don't got, uh, any idea what you're on about, bro." 

They have the CCTV systems hacked to show up on the monitors in their room, so they can watch while they game. You had noticed early on one stayed focused on the same area of Sector C, seemingly watching the one person. Benrey seems to have a crush on Gordon Freeman. (You still consider the research assistant to be a newbie despite having worked at Black Mesa for a little over six months, but you suppose that Benrey is more of the newbie now.)

Barney waves are you, having caught your gaze. You go to tug Benrey over but you notice the space by you side is suddenly empty. You sigh, but decide to at least go catch up with Barney before finding where the anomaly went.

—

A few drinks later, and after making sure Benrey is  _ not _ destroying the air hockey table, you learn about the new project Gordon has been put on. 

He signs fast, but you can catch most of it. And what you can't, Barney is able to fill you in on (he seems very used to reading Gordon's fast hands). Gordon is obviously excited about the new assignment and it's actually a pretty contagious feeling. The name of the project has just as many words in it as Gordon's thesis. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer Teleportation Overstimulation Realtime Imitation Analysis. Barney bites back a laugh every time Gordon signs out the name. And he always signs out the whole thing. 

“A simulation, basically.” He tells you, green eyes lighting up. (Maybe Benrey has a point with spying on him after all.)

A simulation used as a mock-up to explore different things that may happen during a Resonance Cascade. Emergency situation training with advanced artificial intelligence and learning protocol. Gordon tells you that Black Mesa hopes to implement it into more departments later. For now, it's just to prepare him for the big test on GG-3883 that is set to happen next year. Black Mesa wants to account for any scenario that could happen if the Spectrometer is pushed to its limits and you can't help but feel uncomfortable about  _ why _ . 

"Oh yeah, Thomas works with AIs!" Barney says, abruptly pulling you from your own thoughts, and Gordon leans his head towards you excitedly. You notice he turns up his hearing aid so he can hear you from across the table. 

You fidget awkwardly. "Oh, uh, n-not really! Just one AI and they… they hardly count!" 

"Aliens." Barney nudges Gordon. "I  _ told _ you we should be preparing." Gordon rolls his eyes and you have to bite back a laugh. If anyone has been absurdly interested in an alien takeover, it's Barney. 

"I would like to exchange notes." Gordon signs. "Help with the simulation."

It could be interesting. A program meant to learn and teach. It could save a lot of lives if it gets off the ground. There's no such thing as being too prepared, especially in this line of work. (And it's much safer than the way Aperture does their tests, that's for certain.)

"Sure! My inbox is— it's always open for you."

Gordon smiles at you, nodding enthusiastically. He cares about safety as much as you. His hands start moving again as he describes how the HEV suit will be able to interface directly into the simulation, allowing the player to feel everything.  _ And _ , he adds with a grin, his hearing aids will be directly connected. He'll be able to talk and hear in a way he never has in real life. You find yourself smiling along and drawing together on some napkins. Mathematical equations and maps. You talk about a tutorial AI with the ability to prevent softlocks during the simulation. 

A noise that sounds an awful like an air hockey table being broken cuts the conversation short.

—

Dragging a blackout drunk Benrey back to their containment proved the most difficult part of your job. One you never thought you would have to face. You should have expected it, the entity hadn't ever  _ drank _ before. 

You may be over six feet tall while they are five-three (when their DNA is stable, they tend to jump up in height if you mess up their shots), but they are also over 200 pounds of mostly muscle. You manage, however, even with them trying to stumble away to ask people for their credentials or trying to invite them to game. 

Finally,  _ finally, _ you get them into their bed. They struggle to kick off their boots before rolling over onto their stomach. All while you make sure they know to drink water. They seem ready to take one of their rare naps so you reach for their helmet. 

“Nooo,” they whine the moment you touch the strap. “Leave it onnnnn.”

“B-Benrey, you can’t sleep in your uniform.”

“‘s nice. Dark. Heavy.”

That… makes a lot of sense. Their eyes are sensitive to light, especially when they can see more colors than humans. They aren't exactly used to being physical and Earth is drastically different from Xen. Benrey already shows plenty of autistic tendencies that you aren't even surprised to hear they use their helmet and vest to help with sensory issues. 

(You remind yourself to get a weighted blanket for them and noise cancelling headphones.)

"Alright. Just remember to, uh, change before your next shift."

"Mmhm." They mumble, giving you a thumbs up from their faceplanted position on their bed. You chuckle slightly and after a final check to make sure they have water nearby, you head to your own dorm for the night. 

—

Two weeks later, you are walking Sunkist on your only day off when your phone rings. The sound makes you jump and you scramble to pull the device from your pocket. You usually don’t get calls. Black Mesa communicates via emails and the intercom system. The number just comes up as Black Mesa.

“This— this is Dr Coolatta.”

“Hello, Doctor. This is Administrator Breen. We seem to have… a problem in Sector E. With X-742502. Come to its containment. Now, if you would.”

You swallow, hands clammy. Sunkist nudges you and you pat her head. “Y-yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right there.”

“Please do hurry. We wouldn't want anything to happen to this specimen."

The call ends abruptly with a cold click. You wring your hands together, mouth hanging open. Had Breen just  _ threatened _ Benrey? “Can you go— head home, girl?” You ask, throat tight. Sunkist barks, tongue lolling out. You force a smile. “T-thanks. I’ll be home soon.” You hand her your end of her leash and she takes it into her mouth. You pat your pockets to make sure you have your passport and identification card before dashing to catch the next tram. 

Your mind is racing and you don't even comprehend the scenery. Your body is working on pure muscle memory. 

You make it in record time, and just barely catch the current train. You slide into the mostly empty car out of breath. It’s the middle of the day and everyone who has work today is already at their stations. Night shift won't even be arriving for at least four more hours. You bounce your leg nervously and the ride feels like it takes forever. The automated voice system grates on your nerves, being just the right pitch to give you a splitting headache that feels like it's located behind your molars.

You don't care about the surface temperature. Or the comfortable temperature of the facility. You don't care about the open positions and you definitely don't care about the upcoming team building exercises. 

Despite how badly you want to, you don't stand up and crowd the door when you see your stop up ahead. That's a security risk. You remain seated, albeit nearly vibrating in place. When the door does open, you slip through, bending down so you don’t hit your head and turning sideways to get past before it's even fully open. 

It’s Barney standing at the security checkpoint, not Jeff. Before you can even ask, he’s shaking his head and opening the door for you. “Throwing a fit. Like a kid. ‘cept… Kids don’t kill people.”

You take a deep breath. You don’t fail to see how Barney had his hand on his gun holster as the doors open. 

The first thing you notice is the smell of blood. The padded walls are slashed and blood is all over the floor. Dark red. Human. And then another substance you can’t seem to categorize the color of. Pink. Red. Blue? It shifts. Your headache worsens. 

The second thing you notice is Breen yelling at another group of scientists. One is splattered in blood, while Breen is covered in that same other liquid. He’s trying to convince the others they don’t need anesthesia. 

You turn your attention instead to the singing. Benrey is pressed into the corner, naked and trembling. The strange colorful mess drips from the open incision on their back, across their shoulder blades. Oh. That’s what their blood looks like. The teal sweet voice that leaves their mouth seems to be congealing into a mass at their feet.

A body.

You approach Benrey carefully and Breen falls silent to watch you. You pointedly ignore him. 

“H-hey. I’m here. It’s okay, Benrey. What did— what happened?”

Their head jerks up, pupils shrinking to pinpoints. Their left arm is skeletal. Their gaze flashes quickly between you and the cocooned corpse.

“D-didn’t mean to. Got— got a scare. Tried to fix. Heal beam, y’know? But— but ’m… ’m not a healer, man. ‘m just the tank. I take damage, right? Protect.” Their words are slurred and spoken fast. They’re crying, you realize. Slowly, you kneel down in front of them, reaching a tentative hand out.

“What scared you?” You ask. They reach out with their skeletal hand and intertwine your fingers. You rub your thumb over their knuckle bones, trying to ignore the fact that their own flesh is under the claws of their other hand. But you’re a biologist and studying reactions such as these are part of your job. Self-harm, you note. As a form of self-punishment perhaps?

They sniffle, eyes trained on the body.

“I informed it that if it could not hold still while we did the procedure, it would lose its privileges. After that, it struck out, killing Dr Montague,” says Breen. 

“Benrey has athazagoraphobia.” You try to keep your voice level but it’s hard when Breen is admitting to either ignoring your notes in their chart or not reading them. Benrey has very specific fears and it really isn’t that difficult to grasp them. They’re terrified of being forgotten and wide open areas with no visible exits. “They’re having a meltdown. They’re overwhelmed. Give—give me a moment.”

They lean into you, hands clawing at your lab coat. It takes you a moment to realize. They are trying to get under it. You drape it over their head and they push their face to your side under your arm. You squeeze them and they let out a puff of sweet voice. 

The two of you stay like that for a while. They start to make noises, mimicking various other sounds they’ve heard. Vocal stimming. A step up from tearing at their skin. You reply in turn, making just as weird noises back. Theirs are accompanied with orbs of varying colors and you can’t help but laugh slightly. 

Breen clears his throat and it makes you jump. “Is it quite done? We do have work to do.”

You bite back a comment and glance down at Benrey who has wiggled out from under your coat. “’m chill, bro. Big cool.” They stand up, going back over and laying down onto the operating table. The skin has already started to grow back over their arm and the wounds on their back are closed. 

“They grew wings the other day. We were trying to see if they kept the altered bone structure.” One of the other scientists tells you. You just nod, shaking your leg out that had fallen asleep. 

“Take that body to be tested, won’t you?” Breen already has a scalpel in hand. 

Barney helps you wrap the corpse in plastic to haul to the other lab. Once the two of you are out of containment, he speaks. “My little cousin has autism. She gets like that too.”

“They told me that before I was— before I joined their project, they were kept in a dark, endless void. I think they’re the only kind of their species.”

“I would be lonely after that too. Hell, I would lash out just to make an impact so no one could forget me.”

You bite your inner cheek, hoping Benrey never gets to that point. 


	7. i am right beside you, right (please just follow me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally wanted this to be a really long chapter that lead to like. the plot actually picking up and shit starting to go wrong but i have a big move to a new state in a week and i didn't want a big long wait so here's this!! 
> 
> [i drew a little something for the next chapter though <3](https://0rdis.tumblr.com/post/627223815098941440/ill-make-this-perfect-again-draws-things-that)

> **To** : Coolatta.Thomas@BMRF.org
> 
> **From** : Freeman.Gordon@BMRF.org
> 
> **Subject** : Spectrometer Teleportation Overstimulation Realtime Imitation Analysis Artificial Intelligence Planning
> 
> Howdy, Thomas! 
> 
> I'm going to be forwarding you the email I got from the Admin about the Anti-Mass Spectrometer Teleportation Overstimulation Realtime Imitation Analysis so you can get an understanding of what I need from you! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I had trouble finding your last name. Not even Barney could remember it. Coolatta is quite an interesting name! I don't know how he could forget. Anyway, get back to me soon so we can start planning those AI bass codes. 
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> **Gordon Freeman**
> 
> Level 3 Research Associate
> 
> Sector C Anomalous Materials
> 
> CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The contents of this email message and any attachments are intended solely for the addressee(s) and may contain confidential and/or privileged information and may be legally protected from disclosure. If you are not the intended recipient of this message or their agent, or if this message has been addressed to you in error, please immediately alert the sender by reply email and then delete this message and any attachments. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, dissemination, copying, or storage of this message or its attachments is strictly prohibited. 

You squint at the screen of your BlackBerry and then look at the time. 3:27am. What is Gordon doing up? Let alone forwarding you work related emails. Your email alerts are always turned on full volume so his message had woken you up. You have to be able to respond to any work emails no matter the time now that you're a supervisor. Especially after the incident where one of the assistants mixed up the debeaked and beaked headcrab enclosures. No one was hurt, thank god, but —

Your phone goes off again. You sigh and open the forwarded message. 

> **To** : Coolatta.Thomas@BMRF.org
> 
> **From** : Freeman.Gordon@BMRF.org
> 
> **Subject:** FWD: Project ASTORIA
> 
> Dr Freeman.
> 
> As you are aware, you have been assigned to a new project that will directly influence your future endeavours here at Black Mesa. This project's funding has come from a reputable source and was not easy to achieve. 
> 
> I've given you the timetable in person, but I will reiterate the basics of the project below.
> 
> You are in charge of a team of Black Mesa's most talented programmers. We understand you do not have the education required yourself, so the title of supervisor for this project is just that, a title. You are, for lack of a better word, the lab rat who will be actually using the code that is made. You are to make a simulation that is capable of running through different situations that may arise during the use of the Anti-Mass Spectrometer on sample GG-3883.
> 
> As you know, GG-3883 is the purest (and thus most unstable) sample of the xenobiological crystallized matter that we have ever found. The sample itself is worth more than you will ever make in your lifetime and we cannot risk testing it without understanding any of the unforeseen consequences that may occur. 
> 
> I expect this simulation to be as realistic as possible and have very high expectations of you. This is for _you_ , after all. You will be the one in the test chamber. Realism is the most important aspect of this project. Some of our programmers have joined us after leaving Aperture and have experience with the AI work being done there. You are in charge, but I do suggest you listen to their input. 
> 
> Due to the scope of this project, acquiring the necessary funding proved to be difficult. I apologize for the delay in allowing you to start, but I also cannot give you any extensions. Project ASTORIA is to be completed, in full, by **May 10th**. The test on GG-3883 that you are to partake in will happen May 16th as planned. 
> 
> I do hope you do not disappoint. 
> 
> **Dr Wallace Breen**
> 
> Black Mesa Research Facility Administrator 
> 
> CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE: The contents of this email message and any attachments are intended solely for the addressee(s) and may contain confidential and/or privileged information and may be legally protected from disclosure. If you are not the intended recipient of this message or their agent, or if this message has been addressed to you in error, please immediately alert the sender by reply email and then delete this message and any attachments. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified that any use, dissemination, copying, or storage of this message or its attachments is strictly prohibited.

You had meant to just skim the message and then go back to sleep, but you ended up paying more attention to it and found yourself wide awake. You are half tempted to tell Gordon you probably shouldn't have this email but you assume he has enough on his plate. 

You glance at your calendar. October 23rd. About six months until the test.

Breen is expecting _a lot_. 

Gordon is probably overwhelmed, even with his excitement for the project. Hell, _you're_ overwhelmed and it's not even your project, not officially. But you know you're going to end up helping. You strongly suspect Breen is putting him up for failure. You don't like Breen. You like Gordon. Your fate is decided for you. 

The email wasn't all bad news, though. Gordon had people from Aperture to help him. Black Mesa had quite a few spies in its rival company and more still would leave Aperture for Black Mesa. Black Mesa pays better, has better benefits, and you won't even get started about the better safety protocols. You've heard many horror stories about Aperture. You had an ex- employee on your team when first dealing with Benrey. You don't exactly know what they're working on over there, but they know quite a bit about AIs and learning algorithms. 

So Gordon has a running start, in that regard. You quickly shoot him a reply, explaining that you will help the best you can. When he responds almost instantly, you can't help but frown. He must have pulled an all-nighter. You move to texting for the not project related conversation. 

TOMMY: Do you want some coffee? 

GORDON: Please. If it's not too much trouble? Just black is fine

TOMMY: Sounds good! I'll bring it to you :) Sector C? 

GORDON: Yeah I haven't gone home yet haha… I'm in Lab 4

You spend the next few minutes getting ready for the day, despite it being early. You don't find that you're as tired as you think you should be, but you pack an extra soda with your lunch just in case. You stop at the cafeteria to grab Gordon's coffee. After some internal debate, you purchase a box of donuts for the two of you. 

You have plenty of time to make it to the next tram so you take your time for once, pausing to read the bulletins. You even catch up on the less pressing or your emails you had been ignoring. When the tram arrives, you squish into a seat next to the older scientists heading to their morning shifts. 

"You new, son?" A gentleman asks. 

"Oh. N-no. I usually work in Sector E. Just, uh, bringing a friend some breakfast!"

"That's a relief. I thought you were one of those cocky types that they pulled into that damned failure of a simulation project. Waste of money if you ask me."

You politely ignore him and the rest of the ride goes by silently. You are the last to get off the tram, not wanting to get stuck between a mob of people. When you finally step out of the door, you almost trip on the drop. It's much farther than the steps at the Sector E stop. 

You hear Barney chuckle. "Careful, buddy. We really need to get those fixed." He holds out a hand to steady you. "You do realize this isn't your stop, right?" 

You nod, making sure you haven't spilled anything. "Dr Freeman pulled an— he pulled an all-nighter. I'm bringing him coffee before my shift!"

"Workaholic. Here, I'll escort ya through security. You have the clearance but I don't want ya to be stopped since this isn't your sector." He opens the door and leads you into the foyer. "I do take a donut tax, though." 

You flash him a smile. "I-I guess I can give some up." 

—

Change is stressful, but ASTORIA is something you find yourself interested in. It doesn't take much time away from your actual job, and it's a nice way to keep your mind busy off the clock. You aren't doing much of the hard work, but talking to Gordon about it and listening to him infodump makes your face feel warm. 

Neither of you know much coding, but you do manage to create a working outline for base characters. Even you find it fun to insert your knowledge to make the simulation more realistic.

Gordon is rather fond of Dr Coomer, the guide he designed. Coomer is made with a handful of useful qualities to prevent the player from getting stuck and can even fix glitches. He's coded to be a friendly older gentleman and is the first AI activated so he can start learning even before the rest of the project is up and running. 

Gordon talks to you for hours about the tutorial character. He sounds like he's talking about an old friend.

One of the other programmers from Aperture, Josh, has a bit more fun with the second guide. 

He doesn't give this NPC a static name, instead letting it pick from a randomized list, but it is much more pushy than Coomer. Meant to keep the player on their toes and moving so that runs don't take too long. Josh also programmed this AI with more specific knowledge on alien life than the broad Black Mesa information Coomer had. 

The two NPCs should be enough to keep the simulation running smoothly, without giving the player any obvious advantages they wouldn't have in the real world. 

You give your own insight the best you can, disclosing what information you can on other projects while still sticking to nondisclosure and clearance protocol. You ask Josh to slip in a potion maker as a surprise for Gordon and in retaliation, when you refuse to tell him what you did, Gordon names every guard Barney. 

The first few months are easy enough, for the whole group. Gordon continues to put in too many hours but he doesn’t seem exactly stressed about it. He’s working on the equations and physics systems.

Until he gets the first review with Breen.

“Said it needs more realism.” The way Gordon’s fingers flick show clear irritation. 

“How does he expect ya to make it more realistic if ya can’t know half the shit? You gotta go in blind, right?” Barney huffs, arms crossed. 

Gordon nods stiffly. You know a lot of the protocol, but there is even more that is above your clearance. You bounce your leg. You want Gordon to succeed, especially because it will help him with the Spectrometer test. 

"They— they keep emergency protocol procedures in the Black Mess Official Servers. If we can, um, access the data, we could implement it without… actually knowing," you keep your voice low. It's not actually breaking the rules if you don't actually see the files, right? 

Barney lights up with a dangerous kind of smirk. "Like a type of virus that collects the information?"

"Spyware?" Gordon supplies.

You nod. "Could add a keylogger. As— as long as you interject the information directly, we’re— we are technically still in compliance.” 

Gordon and Barney are staring at you and you sink further into the hard plastic of the breakroom chair. 

“That’s— brilliant!” Barney claps you hard on the back and it’s only from your days at the fraternity that you don’t get knocked forward. 

Even Gordon is smiling and you can’t help but meet his with your own grin. He remembers to sign a bit slower for you, “You can make viruses?”

You shift awkwardly. “No.” You admit. “But I think I know someone who can.”

-

You don’t plan on just unleashing Benrey into the most secure servers of Black Mesa. The thought had occurred to you. But Benrey, despite everything, is still a virus and you can’t be certain what their core programming would make them do when they’re presented with that much data. 

You don’t even exactly know how to bring it up to Benrey without opening the possibility of a huge security breach. They’ve been doing good, really good. You don’t want to risk them reverting to some instinctual drive. (Instinct? Code? You still don't know where the artificial ends and the biological begins. You don't even think _they_ know.) 

You end up worrying about it for two days until you get a text from Gordon in the middle of your work day. 

GORDON: got something to show you. you have an office in e right? I'll be right there. 

You double check the date. 

TOMMY: Isn't today your day off?

GORDON: Yeah but this is important. Can't talk in text. See you soon. 

You put in a request for a guard to escort Gordon to your office, wincing slightly when the automated voice calls it out over the intercom. Always too loud. The next tram from Sector C to Sector E won't arrive for a half hour. But you have a feeling Gordon sent the text while already on the current one in route. 

That gives you about ten minutes to mentally prepare for whatever Gordon has. You know it has to do with the project, but you don't exactly know what could be important enough for him to come to you. You're not even on the team. 

You stand up, stretching, and run to the break room to grab a soda. You need the caffeine. 

You have only just sat back down when there's a knock at your office door. You aren't slow by any means so you jump slightly in surprise. 

"C-come in!" You call, popping the tab to the can. The door opens quickly, nearly hitting the wall before a hand grabs it with fast reflexes.

"Oh. Oops." Benrey peeks their head in, looking from you, then back at the door they had practically launched open. "Uh. Yeah. Got a— got a delivery for Dr Coolatta, sir?" 

You can't help but giggle a bit as they walk up to you. Gordon follows behind, a backpack in his arms. He looks around your office and you wait for him to look at you before you motion to a chair for him to take a seat in. Benrey, meanwhile, bends their helmeted head toward you. 

"Sign here, please? Sir?" 

You pull out your box of stickers and carefully put one on his helmet. Scratch and sniff. Benrey loves them.

"Sweet. Score. Uh, thanks, bro. See you after work?" 

You nod, still smiling. "Yep! See you, Benrey."

They scurry out of the room and you notice they give Gordon one last look, color painting their cheeks. Once the door closes, Gordon seems to relax a bit. He loosens his grip on his backpack and let's it slip to the floor gently. 

He meets your gaze, fingers messing with the zippers. "A gift." He signs, eyes glancing to the security camera behind you. 

"From who?" You ask carefully. 

"Man in a suit. High up. Briefcase. Rich." You furrow your brows. Gordon continues, hands starting to move faster. "Said I need to succeed. Said he's watching."

With a yank, Gordon opens the zipper and then reaches inside. He pulls out a large, alien looking device. It reminds you of the tower Benrey came in. He pulls it into his lap, and presses in a few latches. It hisses as it opens, revealing a USB drive. He meets your eyes. 

"Need a favor." He holds out the drive.

You hesitate. You've already guessed what this is all about. "What?" 

"The servers. I don't have the clearance. You do. Plug it in. Please."

"It's… it's not sentient, right?"

Gordon raises his eyebrows, confused and surprised. "Sentient… spyware?"

You laugh but it's forced. You think you sound rather hysterical. You carefully take the USB from him. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get it installed.” This is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t help but feel uncertain. There’s something off about this man with a briefcase. 

But when Gordon smiles at you, you can’t help but trust that it will all be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they didn't change the sample to GG-3883 until like last minute and G-Man didn't have his grubby hands in anything until then either but. I am ignoring that lore. I don't know much about Decay anyway so I'm sorry Gina and Colette fans.


End file.
